


As the Moon Longs for Dawn

by SilverSiren1101



Category: One Piece
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Makeup Sex, Morning Sex, Neck Kissing, Penis In Vagina Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 11:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18991429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSiren1101/pseuds/SilverSiren1101
Summary: The morning light shines on two lovers, their relationship just as strained as her sleep-deprived eyes feel. Shrike wants nothing more than to get up without a fuss, not wanting to deal with her high-strung emotions born from the recent emotional distance between them. Little does she know it’s been affecting Crocodile just as much, and he’s not about to let her slink away without giving them what they both need most.(Shameless, indulgent fluffy smut)





	As the Moon Longs for Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Defiance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17228414) by [SilverSiren1101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSiren1101/pseuds/SilverSiren1101). 



> Hello! This is a fluffy, smutty one-shot featuring Crocodile and my OC, Shrike. You may know her from my "Defiance" series, but it's not necessary to read before reading this! This takes place after, well into their established relationship, and there's enough exposition here to get to know her. 
> 
> I really wanted to write something fluffy, but also mature, dealing with some of the struggles of even a healthy relationship. And, of course, smut. Very, very explicit makeup morning sex smut.
> 
> Enjoy! Please let me know how you found it! And if you want to chat with me or ask me about headcanons or prompts and such, you can find me over at https://silversiren1101.tumblr.com/ . I love here from you all!

The sun rises upon the eastern horizon. Tendrils of warm tones stretch up from the ocean depths, licking color into the brightening sky. Some others reach outward, over and across the waves rather than upwards in one last salute to the descending moon.

Dawn has come. Proof to all the world that it lives on yet. Night has passed. Day has begun anew.

And it’s time to wake the hell up.

Or so one particular ray says, as it finds the one gap between the curtains and strikes across the eyelids of a woman who really rather wishes it was still nighttime.

Shrike.

Just, Shrike. No last name. Not anymore, anyway. Only a handful of titles ranging from bad to worse and a chosen name to go by. Pirate, assassin, ‘ _traitor’_ from one man, and yet ‘ _princess_ ’ from another… but all pale in comparison to what she is right now.

Which is tired as all hell.

 _'Fuck’,_ the only thought that forms in her mind as she realizes she’s awake. The sound that claws out her throat, though, is far less articulate. She groans, and it’s as low as despair itself, sounding more like a zombie’s than from a healthy, living being like herself.

Well, not _completely_ healthy. Not with the numerous scrapes and bruises she picked up on that bounty last night. All of which come to life at once as she remembers, settling into dull aches and stinging burns. More annoying than painful, at least.

Shrike stirs then, needing to stretch out the ache in her limbs. The movement sends a strand of ashen hair down into her face, and it somehow finds the perfect spot to tickle her nose. She bats it away with a bandaged hand and a terse growl, not at all having any sort of patience in her fatigued state. Her fingers continue upward to thread into the silvery stormcloud it fell from, latching onto the strands in some bid to block out the light assailing her.

Gentle as it is, the morning rays shine much too brightly for her sleep-addled senses. Even as her tired eyes first blink open, they immediately narrow into a pained wince, pale yellow disks thinning to slivers of polished brass.

It’s early. Too damn early to get up. Shrike knows it without even looking at the clock. The exhaustion draining her very soul tells her more than enough, and not to mention the throbbing starting up deep behind her eyes.

Going back to sleep, though, isn’t an option.

The sun is up and so is she. Too many years of surviving alone on the streets have taught her that daytime and sleep don’t mix aside from condensed power naps. Sunlight means being seen, and being seen means being in danger, especially to the sickly, homeless waif she used to be.

 _Used_ to.

That was over a year ago. Her life is completely different now in so many ways. She has a home now, so protected and loved, and strong enough that she can return the favor.

If only her messed up sleeping habits could get the hint.

They don’t care that she’s safe. That she’s in the comfiest bed of her life with her lover behind her, one of the most powerful and infamous men in the whole world… who is _awfully_ close to a full-on snore right now.

She would’ve smiled at it any other morning, but what with how he’s been lately, all it does is make her want to smother him. To see him sleeping so soundly, not bothered at all by how distant he’s been to her recently…

Beyond the rare absent-minded touch as she passes, or a mumbled “good whatever time of day it is”, they’ve barely shared a word these past few weeks. He’s just kind of… forgotten about her. The woman he almost _died_ for. This new project of his or whatever has consumed every bit of his attention.

The idea of interrupting his focus out of an act of neediness, though, only made her feel silly- pathetic -and so she stopped giving him her unreturned affections after the first week of this. He’s gone on about his work either completely ignorant of her loneliness or just apathetic to it.

Shrike grumbles then, muttering under her breath only for the sound to pitch into a pained hiss as she draws into another stretch. The soreness in her legs is far from pleasant, and a rainbow of bruises mottles her pale skin. The one on her ribcage is bound to look pretty nasty by now…  

There’s no point whining about it now, though. She’s not the type to just stare up at the ceiling until a more reasonable time comes to crawl out from the covers, regardless of the pitiful amount of sleep she got last night. All that’s left for it is to suck it up and maybe sneak in a nap later.

But her lover, it seems, has some objections to that plan.

A muffled groan rumbles from behind her, her back having arched into his side upon stretching. Rasped with sleep, it sounds rather miserable coming from someone who usually _radiates_ confidence. And it’s no wonder, too, knowing just how much the man loves his sleep… and how frustratingly early it is.

‘ _Great. Now is when you notice me?’_

Still, she freezes, not wanting to disturb him more than she already has. Unlike her, he’s not the most tolerable of morning people… and even _that’s_ putting it lightly. Most of the crew will go nowhere near him until he’s had his morning coffee, several cups of the stuff. And, with her feelings for him strained from his recent emotional neglect, having to deal with his morning persona would only end in a nasty fight.

It’s not until the muffled sound of his breathing steadies -still pretty close to a snore, though _he’d_ never admit it- does she risk turning over to check on him.

Crocodile, feared pirate captain and former shichibukai, would-be kingslayer and usurper of Alabasta, escaped prisoner of supermax prison Impel Down… lies face down, head covered, in a luxurious mound of pillows. Only his shoulders and below can be seen, rippling back muscles exposed to the morning sunlight his little pillow fort has done well to keep out.

The whole effect is rather comical given his fearsome reputation, and she would’ve laughed had she not been in such a sour mood towards him. Especially as she imagines him clumsily piling them about himself in a sleepy haze during the night, probably not even fully awake, knowing him. He’s a remarkably lazy beast, able to stay in bed for hours and hours like some giant housecat.

Crocodile, however, is a vicious and powerful pirate lord, capable of disintegrating into sand at a moments notice, and has trained his subconscious to do so upon any sign of danger. He’ll pop a quick eye open if anything happens to disturb him and fall back asleep like nothing happened.

Or, spring up and be ready to kill in a second flat, if needed.

Shrike doesn’t have that option. All she has is her wits and wiles and a stealth-shroud that only works on people not already looking at her. A shroud she _really_ wishes she could activate right now, were she not so damn exhausted. Waking him will only cause trouble, especially as he’s only gotten at most the same pitiful amount of sleep that she herself has.

Despite assuming he hadn’t even bothered to notice her slip out yesterday afternoon, Croco had been up and waiting for her by the time she got back last night. In any other case, she would’ve found it charming, but in actuality, it’d only been frustrating. Their first real conversation in some weeks ended up being a scolding session over how banged up she was, and questions about why she hadn’t told him what she’d planned to do.

‘ _As if you would’ve heard them!’_ She had wanted to snap, but opted instead for a silent shove as she pushed past him to take a shower. Though the quick kiss he planted on her before closing the door had been undeniably affectionate, all it did was piss her off further. A reminder of what’s been sorely lacking between them. She’d planned to make her feelings known before bed, but by the time she’d left the bathroom, he’d already been asleep for several minutes.

Yet, as much as it needs to be addressed today, waking him up early is _not_ the way to go about doing it. Grumpy, exhausted Croco will just make her want to shove a pillow down over his face _for good_ , the ornery bastard.

Unfortunately, it seems she doesn’t have much choice in the matter. Something she really should’ve expected.

For as soon as she attempts to slide out of bed, he begins to stir… as he does _every_ morning when she rises. It’s some subconscious routine he’s instilled in himself, triggered at the first sign of movement. He’ll crack a wary eye open, not even fully awake, and give a quick once-over to make sure she’s okay before going right back to dreamland.

 _This_ morning, though, the one morning where she actually wants nothing to do with him, he’s not so content as to let her slip away.

“Shrike….?” Crocodile’s sleep-rasped voice slurs from the mess of pillows he’s garrisoned about himself. “...It’s…”

“Early. I know.” She snaps, though she curses herself for her already sharp tongue. At this rate, a fight’s going to be inevitable unless he can fall back asleep like he usually does. The fact that he’s forming words instead of grunts quickly dashes that hope, fast.

He shifts then, a rise of his shoulder as he drags his arm out from beneath the pillow it’d been tucked under. Embittered as she is, she can’t resist the muted smile tugging out the frown on her lips as his hand reaches out, fumbling about until it manages to find her side. It’s rather cute, the seemingly arduous ordeal belying the absolute lethality said hand is capable of.

Not to her though.

For her, that hand only ever holds her sweetly… Except when it’s gripping her hip hard enough to bruise… Pinning her arms above her head… Giving her a rough spank…

At least when he bothers to _remember_ her. What with him being so busy lately, Shrike was bound to start missing him in more ways than one. Doing it herself doesn’t scratch that same itch.

“Go back to sleep, then.” His deep voice rumbles, snapping her out of the thoughts rapidly reddening her cheeks.

“It’s dawn _.”_

There’s no immediate answer. The silence lasts just long enough to make her think he may have fallen back asleep.

But the mound of pillows shifts shortly after. He turns to face her, rolling off his stomach and disturbing the topmost enough to dislodge it from his head. It slides off to reveal those wonderfully dark eyes she loves so much, looking at her with not a shred of their usual predatory focus. Now, they just look… tired.

And so very soft.

It’s handsome in a way that makes her heart flutter as much as it makes it ache. Fuck, does she love this natural look on him. When those wayward curls of black fall into his face, and the hints of morning stubble darken his jawline. So rare to see, what with how he doesn’t dare leave the ship with even a single strand out of place, dressed like he’s always on the way to a fancy dinner date.

...She frowns at that. They haven’t had one of those in a little while, either.

He blinks a few times, and it’s only when his eyes flick up into the light that their true color is revealed: a rich and luscious amber tone, hidden in all but the purest of light. They’re so dark as to be black, otherwise. But the growing morning light reveals far more than just that.

Like mistakes.

“...the curtains.” Is all he says, looking up into the thin gap somehow casting a great deal of light across the bed.

“The curtains.”

He deflates, somehow melting back into the pillows more than he already has. His hand comes off her side to palm his face, and a rather drained sigh soon whistles out from beneath it.

The sight makes her feel a little guilty, as much as it annoys her to realize. “I could’ve checked them too.”

“Not with how you came back looking last night.” He grumbles, threading a hand into his hair in a fashion similar to how she did earlier. Those eyes flick over to look into hers from beneath his palm, lingering for but a half-second before trailing downward to take in the state of the exhausted, roughed up woman before him… and her scarlet lace bandeau. The rich color is so striking against her naturally pale skin, he can’t help _but_ look at it.

And think about that cute, pert chest underneath.

“I’m fine, really. I can nap later.” Shrike cuts him off before he can start in on her condition, thinking it's her injuries making him stare.

Her temper tends to be on the shorter side even at the best of times, and what with her being so thoroughly exhausted at the moment, any control she has is slipping rapidly. The last thing she wants right now is yet another scolding from someone who hasn’t had a full conversation with her in a week. Or, worse, being _babied_.

She attempts to roll over, to get up and get away. The reappearance of his hand on her side keeps her still. He gives a firm squeeze, and how his thumb presses onto her sensitive hip bone reminds her of certain attentions she’s been missing. She doesn’t get to enjoy it long, however, as it quickly moves on, rising to caress her face.

Even as much as she wants to just get up without a fight, Shrike’s heart can’t help but flutter as his knuckles skim up her cheek. It takes everything not to melt right into his palm, so well-trained by his habit of cupping her face. Gentle, as though she were something delicate.

Rarely ever done in public, of course, like she’s some embarrassing secret of his. Only when they’re aboard the ship or thoroughly out of public-eye is he able to let himself be so vulnerable to her. Affectionate.

But right now she’s simply far too agitated to let herself enjoy it. _Especially_ as he then makes his intentions clear.

Shrike can only frown as his thumb gently pulls at the sensitive skin beneath her eye, expanding the fatigued area and revealing truly just how dire the situation is. The skin has sunken there deeply, and has turned such a dark purple as to almost look like a black eye.

“You need more than a nap.”

Her frown straight turns into a scowl.

“That’s just my face. You should be used to it by now.” She snaps. “Unless you forgot what it looks like.”

The soft look melts off Crocodile’s face in an instant. A hint of that usual sharpness returns to his eyes, now glinting with anger. His exhaustion, too, has also left his temper short, and his nostrils flare from his annoyed exhale.

“ _No_. You look tired. Even for you.”

Her eyes have always been dark underneath. Even after consecutive days or even _weeks_ of restful nights, the bags beneath them never fully go away. They only ever look better, rather than _good_. Meaning, they have to be looking pretty severe for him to have said something.

Or to have even noticed at all.

“I’m surprised you looked long enough to notice.” Her spitefulness adds, and it’s not until he frowns that she realizes she’s said it aloud.

“ _Princess-_ ” Croco invokes her pet name, so utterly ridiculous yet adored by her all the same. All it does now, though, is make her angrier, feeling he has no right to use it after hardly even looking at her all week.

Shrike rolls over then, already pushing back the duvet to get up. All she wants now is to be away from him, to calm down and _discuss_ this later rather than _fight_ about it now.

He stops her yet again.

His hand reaches over her, planting itself flat against her navel before brusquely pulling her backward with a surprised squeak. She’s brought flush against him, chest to back. Her hips only come to about the midpoint of his torso, what with their size difference, and he curls about her in that slight way he does to compensate. His body radiates heat into her usually chilly skin, but the sensation only makes her shiver.

Even as nice as it is to her touch-starved body, it merely enrages her further.

“What the fuck?!” Shrike snaps, practically vibrating from the rage building within. She struggles in his grasp, fighting to whip her head around and bark right into his face. “Let me up, assh-MMPH!”

Crocodile’s lips meet hers just as she turns, swallowing up each and every complaint as if it were his duty. The kiss is forceful, yet soft. It tells her to shut up, but in that soothing, “it’ll be okay” kind of way.

She resists for only a moment. Her eyes go wide, gorgeous gilded disks on full display staring into his own half-lidded pools of dark. And then they slide shut, succumbing to the reassuring influence of the kiss… of the feeling of his arms wrapped about her… of his scent, so darkly rich and familiar as home now.

The tension falls from her body as if her strings have been cut.

He hums in low approval as she relaxes in his arms. For even as much as Shrike’s fury would cow most other men, Crocodile knows how to tame any beast, no matter how vicious.

And he knows _this_ beast best of all.

She acts tough. She _is_ tough, but she acts it, too. Shrike pretends to be okay when work steals away his attention, when his affection turns to emotional neglect. But he knows these times hurt her worse than any wound, stealing the vigor and color from her life until it all goes gray. She needs his love more than even air. Longs for him as the moon longs for dawn, the only chance to glimpse its beloved, the beauty of the rising sun.

And as much as he’s failed to show it recently, he needs hers, too.

It’d only been yesterday when he finally looked at the calendar and comprehended what day it was, how long it’d been since he had really seen her. _Spoken_ to her. But, by the time of his realization, she’d already left; and last night was _not_ the apology he’d envisioned.

He’d fallen asleep feeling sick with guilt, and even as he breaks their first real kiss in some time, one that’d started stolen only to have ended freely given, he can’t help but feel guilty still.

“Forgive a man for wanting to feel the presence of his lover at his side for a little longer.” He murmurs, lingering close enough that she feels the ghost of his words on her tingling lips.

The sound she makes wrenches his heart.

It’s one he hasn’t heard in a long, _long_ while. A whine indicating just how hard she’s trying to hold herself together. As much as he wants to pull her close after hearing it, he forces himself to pull away. He needs to see the look on her face, to see what suffering he’s wrought upon her in the absence of his affection.

The sight catches him right in the chest.

Shrike’s not the type to tear up from… anything, really. Strong and stubborn to a fault, she’s just as afraid of showing any sign of weakness as he is. It’s only now that she’s so tired, and tired of _being_ tired, that the cracks have begun to show.

“ _Now_ you want me? The one time I want to be away from you is when you remember I exist?” She whispers, knowing that a voice any louder would only fall prey to the tears she’s trying so very hard to hold back.

Crocodile sighs, a long and tired sound she knows all too well. A calming mechanism that expels all the doubts and fears from his mind as he works up the courage to be vulnerable. _Real_.

“I’ve been neglectful, I know.” Her eyes twitch wider as the words process in her mind. An admission of guilt. Rare, from a prideful man like him. “But forget you?”

His hand comes up from where it’d begun to idly trace circles about her navel, seeking out her chin. He curls his index finger beneath and his thumb above, so gently beginning to trace along the line of her lip.

Chapped. Teeth marks.

Clear signs of recent anxiety. A bad habit of worrying her lower lip when stressed.

“Shrike-” She shivers as he says it, coming off his tongue like it’s somehow sacred. “You think I would forget the woman I love?”

Her breath catches, a light blush coming to her face as it always does whenever he admits the severity of his affection for her. _Love_. Once a word she thought he’d never be able to say. She still remembers the first, when he lay in this very bed suffering of a terrible wound that’d been intended for _her_. He’d taken it instead without a single shred of hesitation.

Because it was then that he realized he couldn’t bear losing her.  

Shrike takes a shuddering breath then. Her eyes flick downward as she averts his gaze, only to find the scar left behind from that incident instead. Well healed, at least, though an uncomfortable reminder of what was almost lost, all the same.

Remembering it always makes her feel guilty. Ungrateful, almost.

Her lip finds its way between her teeth as she stresses over her feelings, wishing she had the energy to articulate what she really wants to say without it devolving into the pathetic sobbing of a woman too exhausted to handle her emotions with maturity.

Needy. Lonely. Tired. Stressed. Touch-starved. Drained. Sad. Frustrated.

The gentle movement of his hand returns her back to the here and now, bringing her out of the spiraling maelstrom of her mind. He cups her cheek fully now, and the look they share speaks of an understanding only lovers could have.

“I’ve been unfair, and haven’t given you the attention you deserve.” Croc murmurs, his tone somber. Remorseful. “But, please…”

He draws closer then, as if to pull her into another kiss only to stop right as he feels the heat of her lips radiating onto his. She gazes into his eyes, now close enough they’re the only thing she _can_ see and what she sees is smoldering, burning darkness. Not a warmth but a _heat_ , telling her his intentions as if they were written there.

“ _Stay with me._ ” He breathes, the words heady against her lips.

Every confusing feeling coalesces at once, and now she’s left with only one: need. The comfort only he can provide.

The sound she makes is indescribable: a desperate whimper filled with such want. “Please.”

He draws back far enough to see her expression, _needing_ to see it.

And it nearly makes him flip her over and tear off her clothing right then and there.

In the bedroom, his lover is ever a chase. She’s bratty, demanding and resistant, toying with him just as much as he toys with her. She talks back, teases and goads him, taking each punishment in stride until he’s broken the fight from her in the loveliest of ways. Hers is a submission fought for and earned, and the moment she melts into his arms is sweeter than any other victory.

For her to be looking at him now with those desperate bedroom eyes, ringed about the edges with undeniable wetness and all but begging without words, not a single shred of defiance to be seen…

She needs him. Not any of their usual games. Not any of their toys.

_Him._

And, _fuck_ , does he needs her.

“If you really are fine as you say…” He breathes, and then tells her exactly what he intends.

Not with words.

But with a roll of his hips.

The tip of his cock, already hard and aching for her, brushes against the curve of her ass. Just the friction of the taut fabric of his briefs, the only thing keeping him restrained, is enough to make him shudder… and her too.

“...Then let me make it up to you.”

She gasps, an adorable redness taking hold in her cheeks. The look in her eyes has become downright feverish.

In lieu of words, she only nods, and lets him take the lead.

Crocodile hums, low and heated, before pulling Shrike into another kiss. Gentle, this one is slow, in no hurry whatsoever. It savors the moment for what it is, and not for what’s coming next. Not for what his briefs strain for. Not for what she shudders for as his hand moves from her face to slide beneath the lace of her bandeau.

He can’t help but growl in response to the whimper that tears her away from their kiss. She tosses her head, arching her back against his chest when his fingers find her breast, thumb swiping across the stiffening peak of her nipple. She used to be so hesitant to show them to him, worried about their size, that they wouldn’t be enough.

Funny, the only thing not enough is that he can’t get enough of _her_. For as long as he lives, this body will drive him crazy. This _woman_ and everything about her will.

He buries his face into her hair, the ashen strands so soft, more comforting than any pillow. Her scent is intoxicating, as it always is, but different. Less spice, more sweet. A switch from cardamom to honeysuckle.

He takes a deep breath of it, letting the scent fill his lungs, letting it suffuse his entire being. It stretches down to his very depths, fuel to stoke the heat building behind his groin. His cock twitches eagerly as the scent clouds his head, that love-drunken haze claiming him swiftly. Mercilessly.

Not even a man of his aloof stature is immune to the entrancing effects of a pretty girl’s scent. Though the fact it’s affecting him to this degree indicates he’s needed this as much as she has.

“New.” He nuzzles into that silvery stormcloud, pressing a few kisses into the nape of her neck for good measure. “Suits you.”

Shrike tenses at that. She freezes in her arms before turning her top half back around to face him. Her brows have knit together, a rather puppy-eyed look on her face that he wants nothing more than to make moan and cry for him right here against his chest.

“...You did notice.” She whispers, a sense of almost wonder in her muted voice.

Did she make the change to get his attention? To see if it’d be the thing to catch his notice? Oh, the lengths she will go for him, and _only_ him! His little spitfire, his living lightning and roaring storm. Who cares naught for the opinions of the nameless men and women that stare as she passes but seeks _his_ approval like a woman starved of it.

Does she even know how much he craves hers in return? How much of himself he’s had to change just to be capable of the love she desires? The past he’s had to let go of to allow himself such happiness?

“Of course, I would.” He grins, and takes another deep inhale of the new scent. Sweet. Delicate. Absolutely intoxicating. “I’ve memorized everything about this body. How could I _not_ notice?”

Every curve, every scar, every sensitive weak spot, he knows them all and exactly how to get her singing whatever pretty song he wants. He could have her coming on his fingers in a minute flat if he so wanted, but this morning calls for a different approach. It’s not so much the physical release she needs as much as she needs _him_. The comfort only the intimacy of a loved one can bring.

Even as much as he wants to fuck her to sweet pieces, right now. Her needs aren’t the only ones he’s been neglecting.

“I’ve missed you.” He breathes, tilting her face then to reach her neck. His voice drops to a rumbling growl, and he plants a burning kiss into that sensitive patch beneath her ear. “ _Need you._ ”

A sharp gasp inhales through her teeth at the sensation. She arches for him, graciously granting him better access. Her neck has always been a weak spot, the very first of hers he discovered. And, with the way it’s often marked from kisses and bites, it’s safe to say the rest of the crew has since learned of it, too.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Her soft whisper has him rumbling in response. Doubly so as the sensation vibrates into that delicate skin, making her shudder once more. He can't help but roll his hips again, savoring both the delicious friction and the heated whimper she makes as his tip grinds off the swell of her ass. “ _Also need you!”_

For her to be so worked up after only some light touching… _fuck_ , the things he wants to do to her. His mind crafts it all for him, scenes of her sweet ruination: her face in the pillows, back muscles twitching as he rails her from behind; thick thighs straddled over him, cute tits bouncing with each thrust upward; nails raking down his back, gasping, breathless moans in his ear as she clings to him from beneath…

He’s growing more ravenous for her by the second.

But he resists letting his need take him over just yet. Even on the best of days, Shrike is a tight fit for him. Trying to take her without a bit of preparation will only leave them both cursing and sore.

And still, this morning is about her. Her needs, not his. He owes her that much.

“Tell me”. He growls into her neck, making her shudder and gasp from the line of smoldering kisses her plants along her jaw. “Tell me what you want.”

His hand slides out from beneath her bandeau and brusquely tugs it down, exposing her chest to the golden morning light. The creaminess of her skin glows positively radiant, as if blessed by some higher power itself, and he practically salivates at the way the red lace band pushes them up and forward.

Beautiful. Absolutely entrancing.

He’s back to teasing and pinching at them in an instant, but how her hips wriggle impatiently against him again tells him this isn’t exactly what she’s craving at the moment.

“ _Words_.” He growls, punctuating the demand with a quick nip at her ear.

But her tongue is failing her. The way he’s teasing at her chest has stolen the words right from her mouth, leaving only sighs and moans in their place. All she can manage to pant is a rather pitiful declaration of _want_ , and she turns to plead at him with lust-blown pupils she hopes are more than enough to fill in the blanks.

She hadn’t needed that at all, however. The sudden jolt of pleasure arching up his spine says more than enough.

Her fingers have reached behind her, finding the tip of his cock so hard and aching beneath the swell of her ass. She touches him through his briefs, and just the friction of that soft material as she lightly traces about the head is enough to draw forth a shudder of his own.

“You-” He tries to speak, only to be cut off with a desperate hiss as another jolt arcs through him. One of her fingers presses into that sensitive patch along the underside of his tip, right beneath the head. It’s maddening, just as maddening as the fact she can only reach the first inch or so of him, more tortuous than if she weren’t touching him at all. His hips begin to rock of their own volition, chasing more and more of her touch and making him feel like some desperate teenager.

Where has his self-control gone? Crocodile is a man of patience, content to toy with and tease her for hours before succumbing to his own needs. Now it feels like he’s about the burst if he doesn’t get some relief.

It’s not until her muted hum of amusement slips through the haze over his senses that he forces himself to stop. He grabs her wrist, trying to stop her movements. “You need to come first _.”_

“Just…” She squeezes harder, reaching down further to try and draw more of him into her grasp in some bid to entice him further. “Go slow, I can take you-”

He cuts her off with a growl… but _damn_ is he tempted to take her up on her offer. And she must know too, what with the way his cock jumps out of her fingers, and the impatient whine she makes in response.

He takes the opportunity to shift her further up his chest more, putting her devious hands just out of reach so he can take the time to _think_ for a second. Clear his head before he ends up trying to jam their parts together before she’s actually ready for it, even as much as she wants to tell him she is.

The frustrated noise she makes, however, says she’s not exactly pleased with him being so responsible this morning. He shushes her with another quick pinch about her breast before planting a heated kiss on her shoulder.

Before she can complain any further, his hand slips from between her breasts. He slides it down her front, letting his fingers trail a fiery path from chest to navel, diverting only as his thumb skims the edge of a bandage. He continues downward quickly, hoping to use the teasing sensation of his fingers as a distraction while he subtly peers down from her shoulder to investigate what he felt.

A swathe of black and purple mottles the flesh all about the right side of her ribcage, already so dark from the night before as to make him wince just seeing it. The bandage he felt appears hastily applied, the ends of whatever laceration it’s attempting to protect sticking well out from each side.

He exhales deeply, and presses his face into the crook of her neck daring not to voice any concerns beyond this. Now isn’t the time, and while the injury certainly appears painful, it’s obviously nowhere near life-threatening.

It can wait until after they’ve gotten the intimacy they both need.

His fingers come to rest at the waistband of her panties, a pair of black boyshorts. Plain, much more so than the frilly band about her chest, but the way they accentuate her ass drives him wild all the same.

Not that it needs it, her ass more _makes_ anything put on it look good rather than the other way around. Even without the daily regimen of squats and lunges, marathon training and hiking whenever they hit land, Shrike’s got a natural form that lends itself to a generously ample lower half. What she thinks she lacks above is more than made up for with a great ass and thick thighs strong enough to snap a man’s neck.

...Which, as his cock throbs at the thought, is more of a turn on than anything else.

Crocodile lets his fingers trail about her waistband, utterly relishing the way she shudders and sighs from his nails grazing over the taut skin of her hip bones. Another major weak point of hers. Sometimes, he swears she enjoys him sucking marks into those divots just as much as she likes to be eaten out.

Speaking of: “How do you want this?”

Shrike doesn’t immediately answer. Not with words, anyway. A chorus of sighs and pants falls from her lips as his fingers slide lower, and then lower still, applying just a hint of pressure to her outer folds through the already well-dampened fabric of her underwear.

“You know how much I love your noises, princess.” He purrs, dark and heady, a low growl right into her ear. “What will get you to sing for me?”

A high-pitched moan drags itself from her throat as he presses a bit harder. She bucks into his fingers, desperately seeking more pressure against her clit.

He can’t help but chuckle, reveling in the sound. “This? Or would you prefer me to eat you out?”

But she hastily shakes her head. In fact, the thought actually makes her stomach sink. She likes him right where he is, the feeling of his chest radiating heat into her back. This level of physical contact, even without having gotten to the sex yet, is more intimacy than they’ve had in weeks. Damn if she’s going to let him take it away now, even if it’s for something as good as his expertly skilled tongue working away at her.

“This.” Shrike pants, and her back arches, pressing their skin flush for emphasis. “I like you like this.”

He doesn’t waste even a single second.

The maddening pressure about her clit disappears, prompting a frustrated growl only to be quieted as his fingers urgently slip past her waistband. There’s no hint of hesitation, of coyness or tentative exploration. They know exactly where to go, having long since memorized every fold and curve, every sensitive spot that turns her to putty beneath his tongue and fingertips. He knows every weakness of hers, every way to wring the fight from her with ruthless precision.

But this morning is a change of pace. There’s no fight to break, no stubborn will to temper. He can take his time, touching her in that gentle way she does herself when alone. A loving process that’ll have her shuddering against his chest with a low moan instead of shaking with a sob for mercy.

His fingers spread her gently, enough to slide past her outer lips and dip into the sopping mess already waiting for him. He smirks into her shoulder at how easily his fingers slip into position, at how very _wet_ she is. The thought of needing lube had crossed his mind earlier, remembering the few times they’ve had morning sex that she’d needed some assistance. Her wetness now is only more proof of how much she needs this, needs _him_.

How could he ever deny such a desperate request?

He starts slow, applying that soft pressure about the sides of her clit. The low moan that pours from her throat is all the encouragement he needs. Tensing and untensing, a gentle roll of his fingers to press her inner lips about that sensitive bud, it’s this indirect touch that she prefers. More grinding, less friction. The amount of times she's come around him just from his pelvis bearing down on her each thrust is testament enough to that.

It’s only when he’s toying with her- edging her to the cusp of oblivion, or stealing orgasms from her to the point of tears -that he takes the more direct approach. He’s merciless then, drawing out each cry in terms of seconds instead of minutes, knowing her nearly as well as he knows himself, and how to destroy her so very sweetly.

Not this time.  

The minutes pass as he works her up to that gentle release. His fingers keep up a steady pulse that has her squirming and sighing so sweetly against him. Her shoulder and neck receive just as much of his love. He peppers a line of smoldering kisses and playful nips all about her, only moving upward to plant an especially affectionate one on her cheek when her panting pitches higher.

She’s close. It’s only then that he shifts to something more direct. The moment the pad of his finger touches her directly is when it really starts. She jolts, her shoulders driving back into his chest with a sharp gasp. He grins of course, and a low hum rumbles from his chest in encouragement.

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

He circles her slowly, still not quite touching head-on but enough such that each turn swipes about the edges. A quivering takes hold in her legs, and he knows for certain now how close she is. Her panting grows to desperation, the pitch climbing higher and higher until it hitches and stops completely.

Shrike comes against him with a full body tremble, legs trembling, back arching away from his chest, face tilted upwards toward the headboard as a delicate, honey-sweet moan parts her lips. He can only watch in ravenous awe as she falls apart against him, drinking in that rapturous expression on her face as her body succumbs to bliss.

Gorgeous.

And then that adorable flush rushes in. Her skin takes on a rosy hue, everything from her cheeks to shoulders to chest turning a charming pink.

_Divine._

He can't wait any longer. He's been patient enough.

Shrike, meanwhile, can barely keep her eyes open at this point. Just that one orgasm alone, wrought upon her so lovingly, had been relieving enough to nearly put her back to the sleep she needs so very much. She vaguely registers she’s being moved, that she’s now on her back and her shorts are being pulled down her legs, but she feels almost detached from it, from herself.

It’s not until she feels her legs being lifted, and that blunt heat prodding at her entrance, does lucidity come back to her.  Every desperate need within her reawakens all at once, reminding her of how badly she’s been wanting this and _don’t she dare fall asleep now_. Gilded eyes flick open, but remain lazily half-lidded as they gaze up at the scarred face hovering just above hers.

“Are you ready?” Croco asks, and though it doesn’t sound in any way urgent, the gentle nudge between her legs says otherwise. The dark irises gazing down into hers look just as hazy as she herself feels, and the realization of how severely he needs this too makes her grin.

Neglectful as he can be, he will always come back to her. His very soul demands it.

She reaches her arms up, the act of moving them like pushing through swamp water what with how drained she feels, but manages to latch her fingers together about his neck before letting them fall limp. His gaze never once diverts, even as he turns his face to kiss a forearm draped across his shoulder. It remains fixed squarely on hers, waiting with a predatory focus for her permission before taking her like they both desperately need.

But it doesn’t come how he expected it to.

“I love you.” Shrike murmurs, putting into words the only way to describe the overwhelming rush of _feeling_ threatening to burst from her chest. _Love_ is the one that speaks loudest of all.

He stiffens, body going taut as his eyes twitch open wider. His lips part slightly before his jaw clenches shut with an audible click and hasty swallow. But that’s not what has Shrike beaming up at him with that rare, heart-fluttering smile, with pure adoration in her eyes.

The most charming, endearing blush has begun to creep up from beneath his scar. It takes hold of his expression swiftly, and utterly unwillingly given the slight wince and embarrassed half-smile tugging at one corner of his lips. His eyes have slipped shut, and as he huffs she can only describe the expression as _bashful_. Her stomach flutters as she drinks it in, such a terribly rare sight to see on his usually aloof face, only coaxed out when she catches him emotionally off guard. Handsome, charming, and so out of place to anyone who hasn't gotten to know him beyond the scowl on his wanted poster, it'd be a lie to say one of her reasons for living is to chase after it again and again.

His eyes flutter open only a second later despite time having felt like minutes, and the smoldering look of reverence- _devotion_ -in them nearly makes her start crying all over again. He doesn’t even need to speak it aloud. The way his lips crash down on hers returns her declaration of love and more.

As does the gentle insistence as his hips begin to press forward.

He’s as slow as he can bring himself to be right now, the need to take her swiftly and passionately threatening to override his usual patience. Shrike can’t help but tense as she feels his tip attempting to press into her, somehow bigger than she remembers. Has it really been so long that her body struggles to remember the shape of his?

Her nails dig into the back of his neck as she begins to stretch around him. He doesn’t break their kiss despite what should be an awful sting, dutifully trying to distract her from her _own_ discomfort as he pushes inside her. The first inch is easy, but even just a centimeter past it feels like a mile. It’s tight, bordering on the edge of _too_ tight.

It’s been some time, weeks obviously, since they last had sex. Her body has lost some of its usual give they’ve built up to make this possible, and the burning stretch is an uncomfortable reminder of just how to accommodate him. She’d forgotten how this feels, being stretched open to fit around a cock that, even _with_ preparation and muscle memory, hovers on the border of just ‘too big’.

He stops after a few seconds, breaking their kiss to groan and bear down on his left forearm bracing himself about her. She’s not the only one struggling. The heated pressure about his cock edges on painful. He mumbles a muted apology and something about needing to have prepped her better, but she merely pulls him back down into another kiss.   

“It’s fine.” She breathes. Not a lie. The burning discomfort has already begun to ease, though as her eyes travel down her body she’s reminded that he’s really only about halfway in… If even that. “Just… give me a few. It’s been a little while.”

Croco rumbles a low affirmative, bending down further to kiss at her neck. Something to occupy her attention while they wait for their bodies to remember one another and the aches to dull. It only takes a minute or so, the pain soothed with each heated kiss and nip he plants along her neck and jawline.

A relaxed grin overtakes the pained grimace on her face as the burning stretch settles into that familiar feeling of fullness. Not quite good yet, but the herald of the mind-blowing pleasure she’s come to expect from their bedroom. She sighs happily, lazily, letting her fingers relax from clawing his back to instead thread through his hair and draw featherlight circles about his shoulders.

“Yes?” He asks for confirmation, voice absolutely dripping with the lust and need he’s been doing so well to keep under control for her. A sudden throb of his cock buried halfway inside her makes them both shiver, but from _her_ comes a gasping moan. This. This is what she remembered.

Crocodile chuckles, but is caught in a pleased grunt himself as she moves her hips in a suggestive wiggle. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, then.”

He plants a deep kiss against her lips, chased by a promise of “slow”, before drawing himself back upward. Several creaks sound, a little frown on his heated face, as he leans back on his haunches and stretches his back and neck out. What with their size difference, he has to crane himself inward to be able to kiss her in this position, and he much prefers to take her from behind because of it.

Later.

True to his word, Croco does start off slow. _Start_.

He rocks backward, pulling himself out with such a drawn-out motion that it has both them shuddering. Shrike whimpers the entire way, each inch dragging across her tight walls until only just his tip remains inside. His thrust back in is just the same, pushing into her almost as slowly as before, refamiliarizing her body to the shape of his. Only this time, he continues pressing a bit deeper. Her pussy takes more of his length than before, and that burning stretch returns. Duller, but enough for her to bite into her lip and shift her hips as he fills her more and more.

The sound she makes is music to him, that airy sigh whistling past her parted lips, arms tossed about her head with her hands twining into the sheets. The sight does something to him. How her chest heaves, jiggling her chest; the way her sternum and cheeks have flushed with that adorable pink; the hazy, punch-drunk look in her half-lidded eyes as she tosses her head backward. All from the sensation of his cock splitting her open…

And that’s not even getting to how it _feels_. What the downright maddening wet heat and pressure squeezing him from all sides are doing to him. Even as he’s stopped short of bottoming out, that same pesky inch or two left between his hips and hers she’s only able to take on the best of days, the pleasure is _damning_. So good as to lure him down to the level of a mindless beast.

He can’t help himself.

With a deep growl, and a rather _firm_ push of his hips, he sinks back into her with noises that are downright _obscene._ His groan mixes with her high-pitched cry, and the wet sound of her cunt only accentuates their chorus.

“Oh, _fuck_ .” Shrike gasps. This is what she’d been missing. This feeling of impossible fullness, being stretched around his girthy cock striking the deepest, most sensitive spots of hers on every thrust. “ _Please, please, please.”_

Croc sets a brisk pace, not enough to break her to sweet pieces like their usual rough sessions, but enough to have her quivering and moaning, squeaking and yelping sounds of pleasure with each roll of his hips. She’s missed this feeling terribly, and from the expression on his face and pants rasping past his lips, she knows without a doubt that he has too.

The grip he has on her waist is just short of bruising as he continues driving into her. It’s sweet, tortuous, mind-numbing _bliss_ that’s overriding each and every ache in her body besides the euphoric one deep within making her shake and moan. She drowns in the haze quickly swamping her senses, hands twining in the sheets even harder as she begs for more and more until her pleas become breathless sounds in lieu of actual words.

It’s perfect- _almost_ perfect. Something is missing.

Her eyes flick open, but just the act of doing so feels like fighting off a coma as the rapturous feeling of drunkenness threatens to drag her under. She looks up at him, seeing his jaw tensing, eyes screwed shut with brows knitting together in what looks to be deep concentration.

A smirk tugs at her lips. Close already? Normally, his stamina is the one that has _her_ running ragged trying to keep up. He really has needed this.

The little laugh she makes draws his attention, a hint of lucidity flashes in his eyes as he looks down and takes in the sight of the woman splayed in front of him. _Around_ him.

Before she can even ask for it he’s leaning down over her, taking her into another kiss. The last thing needed to really make this perfect. He keeps up his thrusts the entire time, the only thing interrupting them being the little gasps forced from her with each push inside her. His grip relaxes from her waist, the position of his arm now awkward from how he bends over her, though she finds its new destination far sweeter.

His hand finds one of hers, still desperately grounding itself in the twisted sheets, only letting go to interlock fingers with his. He plants both their hands into the pillows above her, fully bearing down on his left forearm to keep himself upright.

This is what she needed. No games, no teasing, no toys. Just rapturous, passionate _fucking_ . Raw and desperate, both of them getting the intimacy they crave, that they _live_ for.

But then he stops. His hips still. Before she can question why, he temporarily lets go of her hand, bringing a pillow down to cushion beneath her hips. His knees come forward to lift and tilt her rear upward, before twining his hand back with hers.

And the very first thrust nearly makes her scream.

It's not that he finally manages to fully hilt himself inside, though the desperate groan he makes would be worthy of making her come right then and there. It's not the mind-erasing sensation of _fullness_ , each and every part of her drowning in him.

No, with their bodies like this, there's nothing stopping him from grinding down on her sensitive, pulsing clit with each and every thrust.

A triumphant chuckle pierces through the ring in her ears and stars in her eyes.

And he gets right back to work.

It's more of a grinding this time. Each roll of his hips against hers has her desperately keening and writhing beneath him. Her fingers, still latched with his, claw into the back of his hand while the others grip at his arm, his shoulder, his back- anything to hold onto before the overwhelming tide of sensation sweeps her away.

A foolish effort. There was no point in even trying to resist.

The haze of heat and pleasure descends on her mind without mercy under the steady rhythm of his thrusts. Each and every one of them chase away whatever conscious thoughts she has left. All that's left behind is a blank canvas immediately overrun with raw, pure _sensation_. Good fights with too good. Full fights with too full. The pleasure and pain twist together endlessly until the lines between them disappear entirely. Her poor senses give up, the flood of input too much to keep up with. Eyes screw shut. Ears hum with the rush of blood. She's left in the dark haze of mind-numbing, maddening pleasure helpless to resist.

Is she mumbling something? Pleas for more, "yes"es, his name? When did her free hand fall limp, falling to the pillow next to her face, too overloaded to even grasp at his arm? How long have her eyes been wet, the tide and exhaustion confusing her emotions to tears?

Shrike is a mess beneath him, and Crocodile drinks in all of it.

A gorgeous, wonderful mess. Trembling, crying, gasping and moaning, too exhausted to resist the pleasure flooding over her with each grinding roll of his hips. Her silvery hair churns about her flushed face, plastering to her damp cheeks and sweat-soaked forehead. She only looks all the more beautiful for it, the look of a woman lost in rapturous, damning bliss because of _him_.

He looks much the same. The blush creeping from beneath his scar now blazes across his face, stoked from the passion and exertion both. His hair falls about every which way, not exactly a swirling storm like the woman’s beneath him but just as tousled and slick with sweat. His hips haven’t stopped moving since settling into this rhythm, the pleasure too good to even consider stopping for anything short of a safeword or genuine tears. When she’s like this, _drowning_ in their sex, he’s free to move as he wishes, knowing his movements only push her higher and higher as he chases his own pleasure. All he needs to do is hold himself back, edging to the point of almost pain until-

Shrike’s breath hitches. Her chest shutters, and her legs being to quiver frantically about his sides. A wicked grin tears across his face with an eager snarl as he feels the beginning of her walls fluttering about his thrusts. The pressure about his cock tightens with each one.

He snarls, leaning down to nip at her neck, chasing each one with encouragements whispered right in her ear.

“Come for me.” - “Come on, _princess_ .” - “I love you.”

A flash of brass shines in the morning glow as her eyes shoot open in that panicked, “before the fall” realization, only to slam shut as the first wave hits her.

Shrike comes not with a cry, but with a muted, breathless gasp. Her walls clench down about his length like a vise, drawing a desperate, throaty groan of his own as he shudders through it. The pressure is agonizing ecstasy all along him, pleasure and pain both, so tight he has to cease moving entirely lest her hurt either of them. Even just shallow, grinding thrusts grow impossible. It’s all he can do to ride the waves of pleasure assailing them both as her walls flutter and tighten about his aching cock.

She can’t even grab onto him as she usually does, and even the hand he has in his can only twitch beneath his fingers rather than grip them back. Her orgasm robs her of all faculties, stealing the very breath from her lungs and rendering each limb quivering and limp against the soaked sheets at her back.

The most gorgeous sight in the world. He’d rather go blind forever if he could never see again, and deaf if he could never hear those beautiful sounds.

Crocodile can only shudder and groan through it. It’s only through sheer force of will that he doesn’t finish himself, the last sense of reason in his mind telling him to afford her at least _this_ courtesy. It’s agonizing, _torturous_ , waiting for that first hint relaxation enough to draw out. Each new wave and clench makes it all the more impossible to hold on.

He barely makes it.

His cock comes free with an obscene squelch, and he spills on her stomach with a desperate _whimper_. The relief is nothing short of blissful as his twitching length spurts stripes of cum all the way from her navel to collarbone. The pressure had built up to such a degree that the last splashes a line across her chin, though she doesn’t notice.

Shrike doesn’t notice much of anything. Even as he pants, throat rasping as he just barely keeps himself from collapsing on top of her, she seems completely out of it. Those pale eyes are aimed up at him, but he doubts they truly see. A haze clouds them, as if the red flush of her cheeks has stretched upward and crawled inside, giving her a terribly endearing tipsy aura.

Sex-drunk. _Love-_ drunk.

“...Good?” He asks, but he knows the answer even before that sleepy smile claims her lips, forming around the bubbling giggle that comes from them.

Her head lolls back with a sigh, and those exhausted eyes finally slide shut for the rest they need.

Asleep. Far too exhausted for the mess to cum splattered about her torso and chin to bother her. Far too exhausted, even, for the golden light illuminating the room, making her pale skin glow as if blessed, to trigger her waking instincts.

Shrike is soundly asleep, and even as he realizes that he’s now much too wired to get some more rest himself, he only feels relieved for her.

Crocodile sits back up, stretching out the kinks as that post-sex high settles over him in euphoric bliss. He takes in the sight of the woman snoozing beneath him, dead to the world, with such a dopey smile on his face that it’d make her giggle if she’d been awake to see it. There really is nothing like it, one’s lover lying there after being fucked to sweet oblivion.

This wasn’t how he envisioned this morning going. The soft and tender sex he’d intended had quickly devolved into something more. A wildfire of desperate intimacy that left them pawing at each other like ravenous beasts.

And it’d been perfect. Relieving and needed in every sense of the word. All that’s left is to get the both of them cleaned up. Luckily, only a one person job since he had the foresight to finish outside. No need for Shrike to hurriedly dash to the bathroom before it all comes out and makes a mess… even though they do both prefer it inside.

He smirks to himself at the thought, pressing a rather chaste kiss to her brow before climbing off the bed to grab a damp towel… And, he glances over her side again. All the friction has aggravated it greatly, and the bandage has begun to peel and turn up at the edges.

A damp towel and some medical supplies, then.

* * *

 

Shrike wakes feeling… not terrible. She blinks, staring at the wall wondering just what time it is. Her eyes don’t feel so strained anymore, and neither is her head pounding. A soreness remains, but it’s different.

In a different location.

Ah. Yeah.

The abrupt shutting of the bedroom door makes her jump. It must’ve been it opening that woke her in the first place.

“Ah, good morning. Was just coming to wake you.” Croco’s voice hums, sounding rather good-tempered, though it’s not as though she can’t imagine why.

Sex always does put him in a good mood.

Just as it normally does for her, too, but… something feels… off. Something she can’t quite place.

She sits up then, a small frown on her face as she looks not at him but at her lap, trying to muse over the confusing feelings twisting about her gut. It’s only now she notices the fresh gauze placed over her ribs. _Properly_ placed, this time. He must’ve cleaned her up while she slept, carefully enough that she hadn’t been disturbed in the slightest.

Her gut only twists harder for it.

She begins to open her mouth, the words solidifying in her mind of what exactly she wants to tell him. Only, the appearance of a plate before her eyes wipes them all away in an instant. Laden with eggs, toast, roasted mushrooms, and potato hash, she’s too entranced by its sudden appearance to make a move or comment.

Until her hunger does for her.

A furious, rumbling growl reverberates from her empty stomach, and she gratefully takes the plate from his hand.

“I figured.” He chuckles. The bed dips as he settles down next to her, a mug in hand as a tendril of sand props a newspaper on his hook. “Coffee is on the nightstand, though it’s probably cold at this point. I can get you another.”

But she shakes her head. For once, she’s woken up practically bursting with energy. No morning pick-me-up needed. Though from the way he’s fully dressed, she highly doubts if it even is still morning.

“What time is it?”

“Late enough for that to be brunch rather than breakfast.” But his attempt at humor falls flat, not drawing the chuckle or playful groan from her he’d expected. Croco looks over at her then, finally noticing the disconcerted expression on her face. “It’s just past noon. Is everything okay, Shrike?”

The use of her name normally fills her with warm feelings fit to burst, but now it only exacerbates that cold feeling in her gut. She looks at him with an almost remorseful light in her pale eyes, something he picks up on immediately.

He sets down the mug and paper, freeing his hand to reach over and cup her cheek. “What’s the matter? Don’t say ‘nothing.’”

Shrike sighs, shuffling the plate off her lap to settle next to her stale coffee, placed there some hours earlier in case she awoke. A thoughtful gesture. Just as binding her wounded side was, and bringing her favorite breakfast in bed…

As much as she doesn’t want to ruin the mood or give him the impression she’s ungrateful for what he’s done this morning… it’s not enough to excuse his recent behavior. She has more self-respect than that, even if the desperation for intimacy this morning temporarily made her forget.

Shrike swallows, clenching her fists and finding that determined center of hers to turn and face him with the confidence she needs. The expression she finds almost makes her wish she hadn’t, though. Croco looks at her with nothing short of warm concern, head tilted slightly, brows knitted together as his scar wrinkles about his nose.

No, he can’t get away with this just because of a cute face and some sweet gestures… and some _really_ good sex.

She speaks before that determination has a chance to wane.

“I don’t exist for you only when it’s... _convenient_.” A declaration. Not a request nor anything that could leave room for exception.  There is no ‘please’ in her words, only a statement of fact, an assertion for the respect she deserves.

Crocodile’s expression shifts to a frown, almost like a pout before he closes his eyes. He takes the same reassuring breath as earlier, and his hand shifts from her face to her shoulder.

“I know. I’ve been neglectful. To both of us.” He gently squeezes her arm before moving again, now opting to take her hand in his. He leaves it on her lap, thumb lightly tracing over the back. “It wasn’t until yesterday that I realized it. I’d intended to apologize last night, but…”

“But I came back at three in the morning all banged up.” He doesn’t need to finish the thought. She knows exactly why, and it only makes her feel guilty. “Sorry for worrying you.”

He shakes his head, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“...and I’m… _sorry_ …” He grits his teeth through the word, as if it physically discomforts him. “...For not giving you the treatment you deserve.”

Her eyes widen. Genuine apologies from Crocodile are rare, obviously as the man often feels not a shred of remorse for his actions. This is one of those, and damn if she’s going to take it for granted.

He reaches over then, disintegrating his hook into the softest sand he has in order to pull her into his lap. She doesn’t resist in the slightest, tucking her knees to her chest as she curls against his own.

“I do love you, never doubt that.” He murmurs, and bends down to plant a light kiss into her hair. “Even if I’ve done a terrible job of showing it recently.”

Her thoughts chuckle inwardly at that, and an affectionate, happy smile stretches across her lips. How funny that declarations of love come from him easier than apologies, of all things. Though she supposes it’s not fair to him to think that. She remembers what it took for that first one to come out… and he _has_ been making progress since they’ve gotten together…

“It’s… well, it’s not _okay_ , but I accept your apology.” Shrike sighs, reaching up to give him a kiss of her own. “It’ll take some time to forgive, though.”

He hums, running his fingers through the ashen locks about her face. The wavy strands of her choppy, chin-length hair have long since lost their already vaguely suggested places, now writhing every which way about her head like a storm’s cloud… Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it this way. Shrike owns this wild, untamed look, much in the same way he prefers his own immaculate, clean style.

“I think you’ll be pleased to know I’ve canceled all my meetings and plans for the rest of the week. You have me as you wish.”

She stiffens at that, looking up at him with those hauntingly lovely eyes, unnerving and supernatural to all but himself and a few others.

“And I’m not saying that to run off and do it now just to win back your favor. I took care of it while you were asleep.” He grins, looking down at her with the smoldering affection that always makes her heart stutter. “I plan to make this up to you with more than just some sex, princess.”

“I mean, the sex _was_ really good.” She laughs, a bubbly sound that has the same effect on him as his expression does on her. “But don’t let it go to your head, you’re insufferable enough, as is.”  She hastily adds on, biting at her lip to keep from giggling.

“Too insufferable to stand going to dinner with this evening?” Crocodile disentangles his fingers from her hand to find her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. “I’d hate to cancel the reservations I made for us.”

“Oh no, you’re taking me out whether you want to or not. I’d never forgive you otherwise.” But the mirth in her tone says the threat is anything but real.

He chuckles at her flirting, now realizing just how much he’s been missing this. Missing _her_.

“Do you have an outfit in mind? Or would you like to go shopping?”

“Trying to bribe my forgiveness with food and pretty dresses?” But she quickly reassures him before he can frown. “I know you’re being genuine, hun. Yes, let’s go shopping, I’d like to spend the time with you.”

He hums, a contented noise that puts her at ease… only to puff a short laugh of amusement.

She looks up at him questioningly, wondering just what’s so funny.

“Not to be difficult, but would you really say this morning was out of ‘convenience?” He asks, looking down at her with a little half-smirk _just_ bordering on the edge of smugness. “Crack of dawn, three hours of sleep, and both our tempers even shorter than normal is as far from ‘convenient’ as possible.”

Shrike can only roll her eyes, but… he kind of has a point, as much as she doesn’t want to give him credit. “You know what I meant!”

He begins to respond, only for another angry growl to rumble from her stomach. She shifts awkwardly, pressing her lips into a tight smile as she looks longingly at the plate of food just out of arm’s reach.

“Don’t let it go to waste, you know I don’t cook often.” He plants a kiss to her brow before she scrambles out of his lap. Shrike practically shoves a whole slice of the jam toast down her throat before turning back to look at him, eyes brimming with appreciation and love.

Crocodile merely shrugs, but the satisfied smile on his face says it all.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to chat with me or ask me about headcanons or prompts and such, you can find me over at https://silversiren1101.tumblr.com/ . I love here from you all!


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